A Moment Of Balance
by Scare4irony
Summary: Early S4 - Sam's mind struggles to cope with the fact that Dean is back, so he resorts to the ways of his childhood.


AN: This is a story set in really early season four, after Dean came back. Anyway I just always wondered why the guys mostly asked for queens because it sure as hell would be cheaper to get two single beds. Just my observations. Anyway, I would like to thank JenF for beta-ing this for me.

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**A MOMENT OF BALANCE  
**

It was an automatic response. 'Two queens, please'. Both Sam and Dean had used the phrase on countless occasions when booking into yet another nameless motel. When they were younger their father took one bed and they took the other. Once Dean turned fourteen both he and Sam had drawn a line and, by mutual consent, whoever didn't bag the second bed slept on the floor. It was the rule and both had abided by it. If ever circumstances dictated they share a bed, neither argued nor griped about it. The next morning they would go about their daily routine as though nothing were out of the ordinary.

**?_?**

Sam opened his eyes. It was illogical but he couldn't help it. _Dean's right there, _he told himself, listening to his brother's rhythmic breathing. _He came back._ He knew it was true, knew that everything was okay, but he couldn't shake the underlying worry that this could all be a hoax, demons playing with his mind. _No one's gonna take him away. _He sat up in his bed and looked over to where Dean slept quietly. _Sam don't be stupid go back to sleep._ He adjusted the sheets around him and rested his head against the pillow.

Later that night Dean's sleep was broken by weeping. He cracked his eyes open and turned in his bed so he could face Sam.

"Sammy?" he questioned. Sam didn't respond. Concerned, he raised himself up on his elbows and turned the bedside light on. Rubbing sleep out of his eyes he spoke again. "Sam?"

In the dim light of the lamp he could see Sam's shoulders quivering in the shadows cast along the wall. A sniffle later and he was by Sam's side who had tried to turn his back to him.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Sam said, wiping furiously at his eyes. He couldn't believe that he was crying. "I'm fine Dean, go back to bed...sorry for waking you," he apologised suddenly finding the bed sheet very interesting. _See? Right there, not a spirit, not dead...just Dean._

Subconsciously though the seed of doubt was planted in his mind. _Death came back, Sammy. Dean died...he died ages ago, you know that, don't you?_ The tears were back, pooling in his eyes. _You couldn't save him. Hell, you wanted to but, I guess you didn't care enough to find a way._

_I tried, so bad,_ Sam's mind argued.

Dean watched as Sam continued to stare at him but he had a sinking feeling that Sam was looking through him rather than at him.

_Where there's a will there's a way. You had no will...no way. The truth is you don't want Dean here; he'll only stop you from finding Lilith, _the little voice in Sam's head taunted him. _He's not there. He'll never be here. _

Sam shook his head to clear it and took a deep breath. He held his hand up, willing the shaking to settle and placed it on Dean's shoulder.

"Huh," he whispered contentedly.

"Sam, are you okay?" Dean was confused and worried by his brother's actions. "I need you to talk to me," he whispered placing his hand on Sam's cheek. Sam, however, turned away from him and Dean looked on in concern. _Something must have really freaked you out, h_e observed. _You used to do that whenever you got scared when you were little, _he thought. He stroked Sam's messy bed hair before removing his presence all together.

"Sam get some sleep. I don't care what you do, just sleep," he said in a firm voice. Softly, with a small chuckle, he added, "I need you to sleep. You look like crap."

His younger brother made a sound in affirmation. Something along the lines of, 'Look who's talking,' was audibly clear. His mind settled into an easy rest.

_Running._

_Footsteps on pounding on the pavement. _

_Hellhounds coming to get Dean. _

_Barking and lashing out in the middle of the road. _

_Dean's screams ripping through the air before all falls silent._

For the second time that night Sam's sleep was cruelly interrupted by haunting dreams and his eyes snapped open. _No, I couldn't._ Watching Dean's chest rise and fall with each living breath he took, Sam didn't even realise he was crying again.

**?_?**

"_Dean," Sam whispered peering over the edge of the bed. The loud crack of thunder made him jump up. He'd always had an irrational fear of storms and his hazel coloured orbs filled with panic before they rested on the peaceful face of his brother. Dean obviously felt his presence and he stirred in his sleep, turning to face his younger brother._

"_Sam? What's wrong?" _

"_I'm sorry," Sam apologised, shaking his head in fury. He hadn't meant to wake Dean. "Be a man, not a wuss. I'm nearly sixteen for chrissakes!" He muttered to himself. _

"_S'mmy, c'mere," Dean sleepily said patting the space in the bed next to him. _

"_No, it's okay," Sam said softly pulling back the blanket over the couch. He turned his head to their father who was snoring loudly. Another flash of lightening followed by its counterpart stunned Sam into momentary silence. _

_Eyes fighting to stay open, Dean propped his head up and yawned. "Suit yourself, offer still stands." He plopped his head back onto the pillow. "Nothing wrong with being scared," he finished before drifting off. _

_Silently Sam thanked God for not placing him with a jerk for a brother brother. Tiptoeing quietly around to the other side of Dean's bed he lifted the covers and slid in. Instantly he felt at peace and with the next roll of thunder, Sam didn't bat an eyelash. _

**?_?**

Sam padded, sock footed, across the cold wooden floor. His hunter senses allowed him to dodge any objects ensuring he didn't knock anything over. Locating the edge of one of the queens he continued forward, biting back yelp when he stubbed his toe against the chair. So much for his hunter senses.

Finally his knees bumped the edge of the mattress. Taking in a deep, silent breath, he clenched the corner of the bed sheet and slowly drew it up.

The springs squeaked in protest at the added weight and Dean felt the sudden shift in balance. He manoeuvred his hand under his pillow and his fingers closed around the cool surface of the blade's handle. Slowly he inched it out of its hiding place centimetre by centimetre. The shuffling and murmurs of 'Damn it! Sorry Dean,' alerted him to the fact that Sam was in the bed.

"Sammy?" The knife went back under the pillow and Dean turned around to greet his gigantic sasquatch of a brother looking up at him from the opposite pillow. Tear stains streaked his already pale face and showed no signs of stopping.

"Dean..." Sam sniffled out "...I'm sorry..." Sam started shuffling himself out of the bed but Dean grabbed his shoulder.

"It's okay, Sam," he reassured his brother, "Just keep to your side, and leave the covers where they are." Dean rolled over and settled himself down again. "Remember I _will_ kill you if you take them," he smirked, hoping to bring a smile to his brother's face.

Sam bobbed his head and managed to wipe away some of the tears. "Goodnight, Dean," he said just like he did when he was a kid. He turned his back to Dean and straightened out the cover so that they wouldn't be fighting in the middle of the night.

Dean stared at Sam's frame. He looked so small and vulnerable. So Sammy. It was amazing how much of him, he still saw. Four months without Dean had changed Sam, but not that much. Sam was still a pansy and, Dean gleefully noted, he still loved his big brother.

Sam's eyes flickered, and his eyelashes fluttered with the rapid moment from underneath. Dean closed his eyes, listening as his brother's breathing finally evened out and Sam fell into a peaceful sleep. "Goodnight Sammy," he whispered into the darkness. Finally Dean was able to get to sleep himself. No images of hell impeded his mind, no burning faces, or bloodied carcasses. No, no nightmares plagued either Winchester mind.

The next morning the rules laid down when Dean was fourteen came into play. Dean woke first and, glancing briefly at Sam and the covers piled on top of him, made his way into the bathroom while chuckling softly. By the time he re-emerged Sam was awake and moving around the room, getting ready for the day ahead. There was no mention of the previous night's events and although both brothers knew there were things left unsaid, neither was prepared to break the happy equilibrium they had stumbled into as the Impala cruised out of the motel parking lot.

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AN: So I hope you all enjoyed this. Remember to leave reviews...it brings happiness to the author! :) Scare4irony.


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